Dinner Break
by Decadebaby
Summary: "It is during the ordinary moments that our story is told." -JE During a stressful week, Elizabeth McCord reconnects with her family. I appreciate thoughts and reviews.
1. Chapter 1

HENRY MCCORD hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. There were some things that he had grudgingly come to accept. He understood that the complications of their lives had tripled when Elizabeth had become Secretary of State, but having her gone for days on end was never easy. And he'd learned that a five minute phone call between meetings was better than enduring forever without even the sound of her sweet voice. Still, it was hard to accept her occasional absences from his daily life.

He left his home office, wandering through the house aimlessly. He paused leaning against the edge of the sofa watching the screen as Jason played a video game.

"Wanna play?" Jason asked, glancing over his shoulder at his father.

"Nah." He responded. Sighing he turned and sat at the table next to Alison who had her homework spread out over the table.

"What are you working on?" He asked her.

"Chem." She said without looking up.

"Oh." He exhaled slowly and picked at the edge of a place setting.

"What's wrong?" She asked, sitting back from her homework to study him with giant brown eyes.

"Nothing's wrong." He answered quickly. "Who said anything is wrong?"

The back door opened, letting in a bitter wind and Stevie entered shaking snow off her coat as she did.

"Well, I'm completely over winter." She said, hanging up her coat. "It is freezing out."

"Duh." Jason called from the family room. "That's kind of how snow works, genius."

"Thanks, professor." She rolled her eyes at her little brother. "Living up to all the teen boy stereotypes tonight?"

"Yep."

"And every day." Alison said laughing.

"Dad!" Jason moaned. "They are double-teaming me again!"

"What?" Henry said, glancing around the room. "Hey, Stevie! When'd you get home?"

The three of them looked at each other and Stevie shook her head. "Just now. You alright, Pops?"

Henry blushed, as Stevie walked into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator.

"Don't call me that." He protested.

"Sorry, old man but it appears you fell asleep mid-conversation again." She studied the open refrigerator. "What's the dinner situation?"

"Dinner? Hmmm?" He mocked her. "I can't remember what that is?"

Stevie rolled her eyes. "Don't be overly sensitive."

"He's suffering Mom withdrawals." Alison explained.

"Oh, no. How bad?" She closed the refrigerator and leaned against the counter.

"Four days." Jason said, glancing away from the game. "He's deteriorating quickly."

"What? I am not."

"Sighing?" Stevie asked.

"Yep." Alison said as she wrote an equation on her paper. "And wandering around the house."

"Level two then, or maybe three?" Stevie asked her siblings.

"Three!" Jason said.

"What are you talking about?" Henry asked.

"Henry McCord's levels of Wife-Sickness."

"Wife-Sickness? That's not a word."

"Jason made it up." Alison explained. "His ego is fragile so we accepted it."

"It's like homesickness but much more specific." Jason said, pausing his game. "It has five levels."

"Do you put this much thought into your school work?" Henry asked.

"God no!" Jason's eyes grew wide with shock. "Why would I want to justify the existence of a corrupt system by putting in any effort? If I tried in school it would confirm its value!"

"Dad, why? Why do you do that?" Stevie asked. "Aren't you suffering enough? You get him all wound up and we have to listen!"

"Don't blame me!" Henry huffed. "You brought it up."

"Irritation." Alison said, glancing up from her book. "Definitely level three."

"Stop that." He turned to her but she just raised her eyebrow at him, and mouthed the word "three" to Stevie who nodded her head in agreement.

Jason rose and walked to the table, leaning against the back of the couch, he shook his head at his father.

"Level one is when you say things like, 'Mom's got a busy week.' And 'We all have to pitch in'."

"It's your 'We-can-get-through-this-together and let's-stay-positive mode." Stevie added.

"Level two is when it starts to turn." Alison said setting down her pencil. "You still say positive things but you sound sad when you say them. 'Now, guys, you got to understand that Mom's working hard'." She imitated her father, her eyes huge with sadness.

"Level three?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest, clearly irritated.

"Sighing. Irritability. Listlessness. And general patheticness." Jason said.

"And you stay up late." Stevie added.

"And either eat everything in sight or nothing at all." Alison told him. "Stage Four is when you don't eat or sleep, and say almost nothing."

"You've given up reassuring us at that point." Stevie clarified. "And you are just trying to keep it together. Plus, you feel guilty because you have been cranky with us and are irritated with Mom, even though you know it isn't her fault."

"Well, I don't think I want to hear about Stage Five." He said. They grew silent, the teasing gone - the room suddenly filled with heaviness.

"Iran." Stevie said finally breaking the silence. "That's Level Five. We added it."

"Oh." He said, considering this thoughtfully.

It was hard for him to picture things from their perspective. He tried to - tried very hard to always consider things from their point of view. Both he and Elizabeth were determined to ensure their children were independent, strong and good. The world need more humans who at their core were decent, kind and respectful. But still, he could never imagine his own quiet mother a world leader. How would it have impacted his life? How would it have shaped him?

"Great job, Stevie!" Jason complained, interrupting his thoughts. "You kicked him right into Level Four. He's all broody now!"

"What about going out?" He asked them suddenly.

"What?" Alison asked confused.

"For dinner. I'm hungry and sitting around here is lame. Let's go to that place with all those stupid appetizers and the arcade games."

"Chuck E Cheese?" Jason asked in disbelief.

"God, no!" His father said. "No, that one in Manassas."

"Chester's?" Alison asked.

"Yes! That's it! Remember? We went there on your fifteenth, Noodle."

"That was fun." She said smiling. "But it's like half an hour away."

"So? You got a date?" He laughed. "I know I don't. C'mon, let's go! It might cheer me up and kick me back to level one." He winked at them.

"Get your coats!"

Alison and Jason both headed upstairs but Stevie stayed where she was. "Dad, I'm sorry." She hung her head shamefully. "I didn't mean to . . ."

He rose and pulled her into a quick hug. "It's okay, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead. "It's not your fault."

"Do you really think that Mom is doing okay?"

"Your Mom is fine." He said stepping back, his hands on her shoulders. "And I am, too. We are managing it. And she's tough, hon. You know that."

"Yeah." She agreed. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

He smiled warmly at her. "It lives pretty close to the surface of my heart, Stephanie. It's not like you're digging deep."

She shrugged her shoulders at him. "Mine too, I guess."

He kissed her forehead. "Get your coat. I've got a score to settle with your brother. He shall not remain the King of Skeeball after tonight!"


	2. Chapter 2

HENRY MCCORD threw the skee ball watching with a wicked kind of happiness as it landed in the highest target. He grinned at his son. "What were you saying, Jr.?"

Jason considered his father thoughtfully. "Gosh, I wonder what Mom is doing?"

"You are so messed up." Alison said punching her brother in the shoulder. "Don't be a jerk!"

Jason just laughed, and stepped to the game. "Be ready to lose, old man."

"You can keep trying and hit below the belt all you want, kid. But I'm a fighter pilot. Hitting targets is kind of my thing."

"Retired." Jason. "Retired for _years_ now."

"Just throw the ball." Alison whined.

Henry felt a vibration at his hip, grateful he'd set his phone to vibrate on ring. The noise was deafening inside the restaurant. He glanced at his phone, and turned to Alison. "It's Mom! Be right back." He dashed away from them and stepped out into the crisp air.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Professor!" Her voice was bright and joyful but sounded forced. "I've got two hours! You free for a date?"

He felt his heart sink. Of course! Of course, the _one_ time he did anything remotely spontaneous and she was finally free.

"Oh, sweetheart! I'm so sorry. I took the kids out."

"Where? I'll catch up!" He could hear a slight, desperate edge to her voice.

"I took them to Chester's. We are in Manassas."

"Oh." The flatness of her response told him that she had quickly calculated the time it would take for her to get them. "That's a good forty-five from here . . .well . . ."

"Elizabeth, I'm so sorry."

"No." She couldn't hide the sadness in her voice and he felt a stab of pain as he heard her tone shift. "No. You guys can't put life on hold and sit waiting just in case I get a break. It's fine."

It would've been easy to believe her, except he heard the catch in her voice. Frustration and worry flooded his system. It was nearly eight, why would she just take a two hour break now? Why wouldn't she just call it a day?

"Babe, everything ok?"

"Yeah, I just . . ." She hesitated. "I just miss you."

"Me, too." He said. He looked up into the dark sky. If only he had stayed home! He'd be out the door and on his way to meet her already if he were still in Georgetown. Frustration shifted to determined resolution, and he gripped the phone tighter. "No." He said firmly. "No. Look you got two hours, right? Get in your car right now! I'll meet you 1/2 way!"

"But how? The kids . . ."

"I'll get a cab. Stevie can take them home. This is crazy. I can get there and I don't care how. I haven't seen you in days, and I'm not going to miss this chance! Go, right now. Tell Frank to find a safe spot somewhere in the middle."

"Henry, that'll cost . . ."

"No more than a night at the Opera. It will probably end up being a relatively cheap date. Go on! I'll be right there."

"You are crazy, Henry."

"I am. I gotta see you, Babe."

***MS***

It was entirely possible that he had somehow managed to find the smelliest taxicab ever, but his driver was willing to push the speed limit so Henry wasn't about to complain. Frank had sent him the address of a small restaurant by the highway. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but one that they could both get to in about twenty minutes. It would give them at least forty minutes together - an hour if they pushed it. He got there first and stood outside in the cold on tip toe, peering out into the darkness, trying to will her car into existence. He hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath, until her car came into view. He exhaled loudly and took a giant running leap toward her car.

"Evening, Dr. McCord." Frank said reaching to open the door. "We just need to do a sweep inside."

He completely ignored Frank, his eyes focused on the open door. Just the sight of her thin ankle, sent his heart into double-time. She stepped out of the car, glancing around. She looked tired, and sad but then her eyes landed on him and her face broke into a wide smile. "Henry!" Despite her hated heels she ran toward him.

"It feels like we are in a bad spy movie." She said throwing her arms wide to embrace him.

He hugged her close, speechless. Bending low he kissed her, wishing with all his heart that it had been a hotel that had been the halfway point between them.

"Hi." He said laughing as he released her.

"Hi, stranger." She smiled up at him. "We have forty-six minutes."

"More," He said his arm sliding around her shoulders. "I'm hitching a ride back to DC with you!"

"Good." She said, leaning in for another kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, and could feel her shivering. "I've missed you." He whispered, drawing her close as she leaned in deeper to his kiss.

"Ah, hem. . ." Frank stood near them, clearing his throat. "It's all clear."

"C'mon, babe." He broke away from her, laughing. His heart was filled with joy for no other reason that she was with him; her soft hand in his. "Let's get you inside. You are freezing."

He led her inside, there were no other customers in the restaurant. They glanced around, and he raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth. An older lady emerged from the kitchen and greeted them.

"Hello." She studied them closely. "Ah, Lord!" She said, glancing at Frank who was setting up a perimeter. "She looks like one of them salad-eaters. You said that it would be worth my while to stay open."

"Frank!" Elizabeth complained. "You made this poor woman open her place for us?" She turned to the woman. "I am so sorry."

The red-haired lady regarded her thoughtfully. "Oh, I don't mind. From the looks of things you must be important folks. Too skinny though, the both of you! I am happy to feed you, but you are gonna eat! And I'm not fixing some DC kale nonsense. I'm fixing FOOD." She indicated a table to their left.

"Oh, she can eat." Henry said laughing. "Looks can be deceiving." He pulled out a chair and Elizabeth sat down. He moved to sit in the chair beside her. "But if you don't feel like cooking for just us, can we just stay here a few minutes? We'll pay you as though we ate everything on the menu."

"Are you hungry?" The older redhaired lady leaned close to Elizabeth narrowing her eyes.

"I'm starving, actually."

"My name's Anna." The lady said breaking into a wide grin. "You aren't one of them vegans are you?" Elizabeth shook her head. "Good. You sit tight. I'll get you something real quick. We were just prepping for tomorrow anyway. I know you got a tight schedule." She gestured with her thumb in Henry's direction. "He some kind of big deal diplomat? You are much too pretty to be meeting some slimy politician at a roadside shack."

"Actually," Elizabeth leaned close conspiringly. "I'm the diplomat."

The older woman studied Henry thoughtfully and grinning turned to Elizabeth and said, "Well, good for you honey," before turning away and disappearing into the kitchen.

The rich honeyed sound of his wife's laughter sent chills down his spine and he reached out, covering her hand with his own.

"I feel a little like a piece of meat." He said. He smiled broadly as her laughter increased. Nothing pleased him more than the sound of Elizabeth laughing.

"God! I'm glad you took the kids out! This is so perfect." She leaned across the table kissing him.

"I missed you." He said again.

"Tell me everything." She sat back in her seat but kept her fingers tightly wrapped around his.

"I worked. I slept. I ate. I dreamed of you." He said leaning in and kissing her cheek.

"Henry! Tell me about my babies! God! I haven't seen them in forever!"

"Um, well, Jason is perfecting the art of driving Ali crazy. Oh, Stevie got an "A" on that paper. She said to tell you that she was right and you _were_ over-reacting." He laughed.

"Great! Now, she'll never listen to me. Honestly, Henry, I know Georgetown's a good school but that paper had some glaring errors."

"Well, good thing for Stevie, her professor isn't an analyst." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Are you saying that I'm overly critical?" She asked.

"Let's just say you are hyper aware, darlin'."

"They'll be no living with her now, I suppose."

"She hung it on the fridge so just be prepared for her endless gloating." He said with a grin.

"I supposed I earned it." She said. "What's the point of living with two college professors, if you never ask them for advice?"

"Mothers and daughters." He said shaking his head.

Just then Anna returned followed by a younger woman who bore the same red hair. They were both carrying two large plates.

"Oh, my!" Elizabeth said seeing the food.

"Mom, I told you it was too much." The younger girl said to Anna.

"You don't have to eat it all." Anna said. "I just figured I'd set you up with choices. I gotta warn you, though. "None of this," she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "is city food. Mostly it's fried. But you look like you could use a few pounds. You need anything else, you just give us a whistle. You don't look too interested in chatting with anyone beside your friend here." She nodded toward Henry. "Can't say I blame you." She winked at Elizabeth, and then disappeared, her daughter following behind her.

"Do you get the impression that she thinks you are my little boy-toy?" Elizabeth asked laughing as Henry blushed crimson.

"I guess I'm flattered. It's better than being mistaken for your Dad." He pushed a plate her direction. "Eat something, babe"

She looked down at her plate. It held fried chicken, French fries and green beans. "Well, if I eat all this, I'm going to need to walk back to the office." She said, lifting her fork.

"You look skinny. You had anything to eat in the last four days?"

"Of course. Blake is like a bulldog when it comes to making sure I eat. I know you bullied him into it, babe." She glanced up at him. "Aren't you eating?"

"I just ate with the kids." He rested his chin on his hand, leaning across the table, studying her. "I love watching you eat."

"You are going to make me self-conscious." She blushed. "What about Noodle?"

"Oh, let's see . . . oh, she decided to go out for track after all. They've already got her running hurdles." He said proudly.

"Those long McCord legs." She said with a smile. "That didn't come from my side."

"Your legs are perfect." He squeezed her fingers. "But don't . . . I can't think about them right now." He sighed in frustration. "I miss having them wrapped around me."

"And my icy feet?"

"Even them." He nodded at her plate. "Eat, sweetheart. And her coach says she's a natural. She seems content. They've got six weeks of training before the first meet."

"Better prepare Frank. He's gonna hate an open field." She said taking a bite of chicken. "This is really good."

"What about you?" He asked softly. "You look tired, babe. And thin. Anna's right. You do look like a big city salad eater."

She laughed at this. "I _am_ tired. I figure we should have everything wrapped up in a couple of days. What day is it anyway? I don't know anymore."

"Thursday." He said, studying her face.

He noticed only now, the dark circles under her eyes, which appeared to be rimmed with red. Had she been crying? Adrenaline flooded his system; his protective sensibilities kicking into overdrive.

"Elizabeth," He said when she kept her face down, avoiding his eyes. "What? Babe? You okay? You _promised_ you'd call if you had a flashback or a panic attack. That was our deal." He felt a flash of anger. "Baby, you promised."

"Not a panic attack." She quickly interrupted him. "It was just a . . ." She set her fork down, sighing heavily. Her eyes were downcast. He felt all his happiness drain away. His anxiety for her was always close. Her strength was amazing; her ability to endure but her pain and anguish were nearly unbearable for him. Her blue eyes depleted of hope, and filled with pain caused him actual physical pain. He had determined in his heart to replace that anguish with joy. He reached across the table holding onto both her hands.

"Flashback?" He asked softly, trying to keep his voice level and calm. He found if he was emotional, her focus would shift to him.

"I was just . . ." She looked up at him, brushing back the tears that threatened to escape. She exhaled slowly. "We were having a late lunch meeting and one of the servers dropped a tray of glasses, and well, . . . shattering glass is apparently a pretty strong trigger still." She saw the expression of worry that darkened his features, and added quickly. "But Blake was great and made an excuse. He got me out of there really quickly, and it was okay."

"You didn't call me."

"Yes, I did." She said meeting his eyes, waiting for understanding to dawn. "Why do you think I have a two hour break?"

"Oh." He scooted his chair closer to hers, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and she relaxed against him. "It's okay. You are doing really great."

"I just spent the car ride listening to those stupid whale songs and breathing into a paper bag, Henry. I'd hardly call that great."

"You've got unreasonable expectations, babe." He smiled sadly at her. "You aren't Superman."

"Clearly, not. I leave that to you, Captain McCord." She teased, but he knew it was just an attempt to drive him away from the broken things she was desperate to keep hidden.

He said nothing in response, his eyes locked on hers, and he saw within the bright swirling blue, the all-too-familiar shadow of anguish that had haunted her expression since her return. He leaned in and kissed first her cheek and then her neck, until she moved away from him laughing.

"You know that tickles!" She protested.

"I do. Eat your dinner."

He nodded at the table, recognizing that he couldn't push her too far. She had a fragility about her that wasn't there before Iran - it wasn't that she was weaker. It was more that she had an open rawness - that she could no longer hide.

"Anna will be crushed if you don't."

They smiled at each other, and he had to take a sip of water to prevent the tears that gathered in his eyes. He felt such a desperate, all-consuming, protective passion for her, and yet he had to respect her own independent strength, too. She wasn't a fragile flower, but more a wild tree - ever reaching for the sun. She lowered her head and returned to eating but held tightly to his hand.

"How much time do we have?" She asked lifting a fry to her mouth.

"Don't worry about it, babe. Frank will tell us when it's time." He leaned back in his chair.

"So why are you all at Chester's? It's kind of a late for a school night."

"Well, they were teasing me. They said I was moping around the house without you, and I, don't know, I needed a distraction, I guess. It figures you would call!"

"Well, now I feel guilty. I driven you to teenage Chuck E. Cheese." She said laughing.

"Hey, there were two businessmen there, too." He rubbed his face with his hand. "Do you know they have a system of measuring my level of Wife-sickness?"

"Wife-sickness?" She asked.

"Jason's word."

"What level are you at?" She asked.

"Well, they claimed it was a three out of five."

"Irritable, and sad." She said thoughtfully.

"Wait! How do you know about that?"

She grinned at him, but took a bite of chicken.

"That's not right." He said huffing at her. "What about you? Do you have a chart of Husband-sickness?"

"Nope." She smiled at him.

"You don't miss me?"

"I do." She said coyly. "But, according to your children, I've only got two settings - with Dad and without Dad."

"Humfph." He huffed, reaching out and taking a french fry. "I'm an extremely capable and independent man."

"I know sweetheart." She said patting his hand. "I thought the Wife-sickness only went to four?" She tilted her head at him. "You said three out of five. They added a new level?"

"Oh, who knows!" He said desperate to deflect her away from the topic. "So, can we formally adopt Blake? I know his mother is still living, but honestly, I've developed a pretty strong affection for the kid."

"Me, too." She paused, her fork in mid air. "Why don't you want to answer the question?"

"What question?" But she rolled her eyes at him. "It's not a big deal, honey."

"So level five must be bad." She sat back, setting her fork down. "Iran?"

He sighed wishing as he occasionally did, that she wasn't so intelligent and intuitive. "There's apple pie." He offered lifting a plate to her.

"I see it." She nodded at the plate. "It's okay, Henry. I mean, as long as you don't shatter glass or try to help Jason with his math, I'm going to be just fine." She reached out across the table, and ran a soft hand along his face. "Look at that. I've given you worry lines."

"Jason gave me those." He said catching her fingers in his hand. "Alison did - last time I took her driving. Stevie did the day she was born." He kissed her palm. "So, you okay?" He asked gently.

"Yeah." She shrugged, taking her hand back, and lifting her fork to eat the apple pie. "It was sort of . . .well, I'm glad that you figured a way for us to have dinner together, at least."

"Me, too." He smiled at her.

"This pie is good." She said pushing the plate his way. "You should have some."

He leaned across the table, and holding her chin in his fingers, pulled her in for a kiss. He kept his hand on her face, rubbing her cheek with his thumb as he broke away from her lips.

"God, I missed this face." He said smiling at her. She blushed again, smiling shyly at him.

"I hope you missed more than face."

"Pardon, me, Madam Secretary." Frank said approaching them. Henry dropped his hand from her face.

"Time to go?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry." Frank nodded.

"Well, you don't mind if I tag along for the ride back to the city, do you?"

"No, sir." Frank smiled at them. "Ma'am." He nodded at her.

"Madam Secretary?" Anna stood with one hand on her hip. "You are the Secretary of State? I told my daughter you looked familiar! I remember you! I saw you on the news and on Face the Nation. Those creepy bastards sent you to war for them!"

"Not exactly." She said. "but I am afraid we have to leave. Nothing but work for us these days."

"Let me box some of this up for you. You can eat some later."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, recognizing that saying no wasn't really an option.

"And you," Anna continued. "You are the husband, aren't you? How could you let her go into trouble like that? It seems like you like her!"

"I do." Henry said, holding up a hand to stop Elizabeth's angry protest. "But she's an independent woman. You know about that."

"Lord, do I!" Anna said laughing, and winking at him. "You take one of my cards, and if she gets bogged down at work, I'll send some food her way."

"Thank you." He said. "She's completely helpless when it comes to french fries."

"What woman isn't?" She saw Henry reaching for his wallet. "No, sir. A meal for the two of you is the least I can do, considering all she did to keep me and mine safe."

"Oh! But we interrupted your evening!" Elizabeth protested.

"Please," Henry said. "We can't just leave you with nothing for your trouble."

"Keep that smile on her face." Anna said indicating Elizabeth, who blushed. "That's your payment, that and making those monsters act like humans."

"I'll do my best." Elizabeth said, reaching out and squeezing the older lady's hand. "Thank you for everything."

"No," Anna said seriously. "Thank _you_."


	3. Chapter 3

The warmth of the car, and nearness of Elizabeth, filled Henry with a sense of contentment. He immediately pulled her in close and said to Frank, "Better close that window, men. I intend to kiss my wife as long as these wheels are spinning. So, do me a favor, Paul, and drive real slow."

"We'll do what we can, Dr. McCord." Frank answered, his face a typical professional blank.

"Henry!" Elizabeth protested. "I'm sorry, Frank."

"No apology necessary, ma'am." Frank nodded at her. "I'll turn the music on when we're ten minutes out." He said, rolling up the window that separated them from the drivers.

"Alone at last, Mrs. McCord!" Henry said kissing her.

"You said that on our honeymoon." She said laughing.

"Wasn't that last week?" He teased.

He slid his fingers over her soft skin, as he pulled her in close, kissing her. He missed the physical closeness most of all. When she was gone, he missed the sound of her voice and the way they could talk about absolutely everything. He even missed the way she would call him on his bullshit - keeping him in line. But he really missed that all of these things happened when she was tucked under his arm or nestled against his chest. He loved the feeling of the weight of her against him.

He was so grateful to be holding on to her; to be kissing her that it took him a minute to realize she was crying. She had grown silent and less responsive to his kisses. He drew back from her and she ducked her head, ashamed.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I don't know why I'm . . . Henry, I'm so sorry!"

"Nah, babe." He said sitting up and keeping an arm around her. "It's okay."

"I wish that were true." She leaned into his shoulder.

"It is." He ran his hand through her hair. "Elizabeth, it's ok. You had a tough day, and you are exhausted."

"How can I ever go out or to state dinners? Someone drops a glass and my entire staff rearranges my schedule so you can hold my hand while I cry like a baby." She sniffed and looked up at him, her blue eyes made brighter with tears. "I hate this!"

"You want to tell me about it?" He asked gently.

She reached up and wiped her eyes with her fingers. "There's nothing to tell! I was perfectly fine - I mean, I was tired and homesick for you and the kids. I missed that call from you earlier today and then we only had five minutes to talk. So I wasn't in a great mood, but I didn't feel anxious, just frustrated that no one was willing to bend. Every time I make headway with one side, the other side digs in."

"Sounds pretty stressful to me, babe."

"I hadn't been thinking about anything other than the trade negotiations. I mean, I wasn't thinking of Iran at all."

"Sounds similar to me, though. You were in a frustrating situation, away from us, and exhausted."

"I guess." A tear slid down her cheek. "Of course that's my average day at work."

"Want some water?" Henry asked but she shook her head. "Whiskey?"

"I wish! I wish we were at the resort in Mexico! God! It was so perfect there! And you just kept pouring the tequila!" She smiled at him, though tears still shimmered in her eyes.

"You ought to use my technique for negotiations." He said laughing. "Tequila is great at loosening people's resolve!"

She laughed at this. "Sure! You talked me down from being livid that you chose active duty."

"And we got Stevie as a bonus!" He laughed, kissing her. "But you are deflecting. Finish the story."

"I don't know. The server dropped the tray and I almost, almost dropped to the ground. And then I was back at Zahed's house with glass all around me; digging into my skin." Her voice tightened with the memory. "I didn't feel when it happened but somehow, when remember it, I can feel it hitting me. I felt Fred falling on me and . . ." She stopped, unable to finish. "Anyway, I don't know how long I was frozen like that, but Blake was at my side and pulled me out of the room, telling everyone that the President's office had called."

"And you called me?" He asked.

"No. I stared at the carpet in my office for fifteen minutes, trying to remember how to breathe. Then I called you. Blake sat beside me the whole time."

"Well. . ." Henry said at a sudden loss for words. "Well."

"I feel the same, Henry. I mean, it's humiliating and embarrassing as hell, but, he's a sweet kid. He didn't say a word, just sat and patiently waited it out. When I could finally breathe again, he handed me my cell and said, 'Call, Dr. McCord. You have a two hour window. The Ambassador had an appointment.'"

"An appointment?" Henry asked surprised.

"A total lie so I could save face. I'm fairly certain he'd get the President himself to lie to cover for me."

"Why can't Stevie fall in love with him?"

"Henry." Elizabeth said looking up at him.

"I know, but she's a very beautiful girl." He offered. "Well, I hope you at least thanked him."

She looked down, guilt washing over her features.

"Elizabeth McCord! You chewed him out?"

"I was embarrassed." She explained sheepishly. "And I hate feeling so helpless and . . ."

"Poor Blake." Henry shook his head at her.

"Thanks for cheering me up."

He laughed. "Sorry, babe. You are right. I understand it but Blake's like a puppy. He gets so sad when he makes a mistake or you get mad."

"I know! I feel horrible. He walked me to the car. The last thing he told me was not to worry about anything; that everything was fine. I think a year with me has toughened him."

"Iran was hard on him, too, babe."

"I know. The list of injuries is extensive." She sighed. "What about you? How are you?"

"Oh, you know, lonesome for you. Trying to climb out from a pile of essays I need to grade, and way too far behind on my book."

"You sure you are okay?" She asked him. "Stevie said she thought you were having a hard time sleeping."

"You got insiders spying on me?" He asked, trying to cover his irritation.

"Henry, you can talk to me."

"I'm talking to you right now, babe." He said. He pulled her in tight against his chest and she couldn't see his face anymore. "I just get weary sometimes, babe. You know."

"When this is over, let's take a month long vacation."

"Before or after your Presidency?" He teased.

"No. I'm going straight for Queen." She smiled. "Return us to the monarchy."

"You have an appointment tomorrow?" He asked, as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"No. Day after, but if they don't cooperate, who knows?"

"You can't skip. Especially not this week. Dr. Sherman said she'd work around your schedule."

"I know but I do feel better, babe. Talking to you helps. I couldn't do that before. That's what got me into so much trouble."

"I know." He settled back, wrapping both arms around her. "I just want you to have everything you need."

"I've got you." She peered up into his face. "I do."

"Ass-kisser!" He said shaking his head at her.

"Not right now." She said laughing as he blushed.

"You are trouble." He said and she turned in his arms as he kissed her.


	4. Chapter 4

It was nearly ten when they reached her office. The lower levels of the building looked completely abandoned but when they stepped onto the seventh floor, it was as busy as mid-day. Her staff met her at the elevator and Henry plastered a smile across his face, determined not to glare.

"We've got the ambassador in conference room C." Daisy told her. "He just arrived a few minutes ago. He seems much more willing to consider at least lowering the tariffs."

"Good evening, Daisy." Elizabeth said pointedly. Daisy ducked her head and then tried again.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Daisy said. "Good evening." She nodded her head. "Gooening, Dr. McCord."

"Ms. Grant." He nodded at her. "Good evening, Ms. Toliver."

"Dr. McCord, it's good to see you. Although, I feel a bit guilty about stealing your wife like we have." Nadine said.

"Well, I imagine it has more to do with South Korea than you." He said with a genuine grin. Of all her staffers, Nadine seemed to lean closer to humanity than any of the others - beside Blake.

Blake rose from behind his desk as they approached. "Madam Secretary, Dr. McCord, good evening. I hope your dinner was pleasant."

The food was good." She smiled at Blake. "The company excellent." She winked at Henry and then turning back to Blake said, "If you give me five more minutes, I'll be ready."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll let the ambassador know." He nodded crisply and closed the door to her office after they'd stepped inside.

"Blake can call a car for you." She said, setting down her bags and turning to face him.

"Sure. I'll make it home." He grinned at her. He faced her, his hands on her shoulders. "I'll be waiting for you. You think maybe you'll get home tonight?" He tried to keep the desperate pleading out of his tone.

"I don't know. I sort of pushed everything back with my freak out." She sighed.

"Hey, it wasn't . . . Sweetheart, it was a natural reaction. Be kind to yourself, please?"

She nodded. "I've got an early meeting so . . .I'll do my best, Henry. I wish we were both home now. I could sleep for at least a day."

"Soon, babe." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Go do your thing, and kick a little ass. Then come home. I'll be waiting."

"Don't romanticize it, Henry. I'm no . . ." She paused. "I'm a diplomat, not Superman."

"No. You aren't. Superman has a weakness. Near as I can tell you haven't got one." He laughed. "Well, maybe a couple," He confessed as she opened her mouth in protest. "But you are pretty near perfect in my eyes, Elizabeth. So walk your fine legs in there and tell those ambassadors to get their crap together and come to an agreement because your husband is waiting at home for you."

"Henry Patrick McCord!" She blushed.

He said nothing but grinning, leaned in and kissed her. "Thanks for dinner, baby."

"You are welcome." She said laughing. "Thanks for the pep talk."

He watched her leave, straightening her suit as she did. He leaned against her desk, suddenly tired. He ran a hand over his face and looked up just in time to see Blake approaching.

"Blake!" He called out cheerfully.

"Dr. McCord, I'll call for a car?"

"That's alright. I can take the Metro."

"At midnight? No, sir. I want to keep this job." He reached for his phone.

"She'd never fire you, Blake. She adores you. Hell! I adore you, but I'll take the car. You are right. You've suffered enough misplaced wrath for one day."

"Thank you, sir and don't worry over anything else. I'm not made of glass." Blake turned and spoke into the phone while Henry waited. Hanging up he said, "They are bringing the car around."

"Walk me down, Blake?" Henry asked.

"Yes, sir." Blake said nervously.

They stepped into the elevator together, and Henry wanted to laugh as Blake fidgeted nervously.

"I wanted to say thank you for how you handled things today. I'm grateful and I know Elizabeth is too."

"It was the glass breaking that bothered her, wasn't it? I really don't think it was noticeable to anyone else. It's just that I spend a lot of my time off to the side watching." Blake explained.

"Yeah." Henry paused. "She was standing in front of a window when they were attacked so . . . It's not something she can talk about. You understand. Right, Blake?" The doors opened and they stepped into the empty hallway together.

"Yes, sir." Blake answered. "I would never talk, though. Never."

"That's not the least bit of what I am worried about." Henry said, pausing. "But people are always watching and listening. So many want her to fail. And what happened is private."

"Yes, sir." Blake agreed. "I understand."

"I can't express how much I appreciate you getting her out of that room tonight. You allowed her the space she needed and somehow managed to help her maintain her dignity."

"And I can't express how much I respect and admire her, sir. The workload has been ridiculous this week. I think I've seen more of you than she has. That always runs her down - being apart from you." Blake shrugged. "I understand that she is capable and independent but it is difficult not to want to protect her. I know she can manage herself and I'm sorry, I understand it is private, but . . ."

Henry considered Blake thoughtfully a minute and then reached out squeezing the young man's shoulder. "Listen, Blake, she's embarrassed that she was short with you earlier, and I know that she would . . ."

"Sir," Blake interrupted. "There's no need for an explanation. I completely understood, and my feelings weren't hurt by it."

"Good, but still, I know she's sorry all the same. She cares deeply for you, and is grateful that you've been so patient and understanding. And I know that everything that happened was difficult for you too. And I wanted to say how much I appreciate all you've done and all you are doing."

"Well," Blake sputtered, clearly uncomfortable. "She doesn't really need any . . .I just . . ."

"Don't get nervous. I'm not going to kiss you!" Henry said laughing. "But I will tell you this - when I was in Afghanistan - those guys I fought with - they were brothers to me. We endured some pretty tough days and nights and no one, no one on earth understands what that feels like, except those of us who were there. Shakespeare called it being "brothers-in-arms". And I hope it doesn't make you too uncomfortable or overstep any boundaries when I tell you that I feel that way about you."

Blake blushed. "No, sir. I'm honored." He cleared his throat. "Its an honor to be on her staff."

Henry McCord smiled and held his hand out to Blake, who shook it firmly. "Well, Blake, you are more like family, than staff." He released his hand and said, "Good night, brother. Thank you for everything, and see if you can't help her get this mess wrapped up so she can come home to me."

"I'll do my best, sir."

***MS***

Elizabeth McCord stepped inside the front door and dropped her bags where she stood. The warmth of the house washed over her like a wave and she stood completely still taking it all in. It was nearly nine at night on a Saturday so she had little expectation for her children to be at home. No doubt they were out with friends but she hoped at least Henry was waiting for her return. She was, therefore, surprised to hear Jason whisper, "She's here!" followed by a chorus of shushing. Smiling she decided to play along.

"Anybody home?" She called out. "Henry?"

"In the dining room." He called back.

"Oh, well, I'm beat. I'm just going to crawl into bed." She said trying to suppress a laugh at the sound of panicked whispering that broke out.

"Not even a kiss, babe?"

"Well, I guess."

She turned the corner to discover her entire family gathered around a candlelit table loaded with a delicious spread that included all her favorite foods.

"Welcome home!" Ali said cheerfully. She rose from the table and threw her arms around her mother. "We missed you!"

Stevie joined the hug and she kissed both her daughters. Looking up, wiping her eyes she turned to Jason and said, "Get over here, you."

Grinning he rose and allowed himself to be hugged fiercely by his mother. "You didn't miss me?" She asked.

"I guess a little," He cautiously admitted.

"I missed you a ton!" She said kissing his cheek even as he pushed away from her with a plaintive, "Mom! C'mon! Knock it off!"

"I know you're tired, babe." Henry said from across the table where watched them all with bright, shining eyes. "But I thought you'd like a dinner break all the same. You hungry at all?"

She laughed at this. She was a thin woman and had been a skinny child. Her teachers had told her father more than once, "We'd really like to see her put on a few pounds." He would always respond with, "So would I." She'd grown up to the sound of clicking tongues and whispered comments about her thin frame. It wasn't any different now. There were probably hundreds of articles speculating on her eating disorders. Only her family knew the truth - she was _always_ hungry and could eat all day if she were given the opportunity.

"Henry Patrick McCord, when have I _not_ been hungry?" She said with a smile and sank into a chair.

"I can think of only twice, babe." He winked at her as she blushed remembering both instances vividly. "But, I guess tonight you are hungry?"

"I made a roast chicken with rosemary and garlic." Alison said proudly. "And Stevie made some cauliflower, lentil casserole thing which sounds terrible but is actually pretty good."

"Jason?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't gag." He offered with a shrug.

"High praise." She said, smiling at Stevie.

"Is it true that you told both delegations they couldn't sit down until they came to an agreement?" Stevie asked her mother, as she put a plate of food in front of her.

"That sort of thing only happens on tv shows." Elizabeth said lifting her fork.

"You want a glass of that Chardonnay?" Henry asked and she nodded her head.

"I simply pointed out that after five days of negotiations, the kitchen staff could no longer work extended hours." She explained.

"You starved them out!" Jason's eyes were wide with admiration.

"Well, hunger is pretty powerful motivation." She said, her fork paused mid-air. She took a bite and turning to Alison said, "This is delicious! I tell you, Noodle, I am almost grateful I'm a terrible cook. You'll be an artist before you go to college."

Alison blushed with pleasure at her mother's praise.

"I hope she flunks out though," Jason said earnestly. "When she goes, I'm gonna starve."

"Well, _I'll_ probably still be here. So if you can learn to expand your palate, I've got your back, nerd." Stevie told her brother.

"Mom, will be president by then." Alison said with a smile. "You'll be stuffing your face in the White House kitchen."

The food and wine hit her full force and she felt herself relax, listening to the warm, familiar banter of her children. She leaned her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table, her whole body weary with exhaustion. She could feel herself sliding lower and lower until her head rested on her arm on the table.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

She looked up surprised to see Henry at her elbow, the room empty and the table cleared.

"Where did everyone go?" She asked sleepily.

"You fell asleep, babe." He said laughing, a hand under her arm. "C'mon on, bed."

He wrapped an arm around her and she leaned on him as he led her upstairs. She could hear the sound of their children from the kitchen.

"Night!" She called out to them. "Thank you for dinner!"

She smiled as a chorus of "Goodnight, Mom" and "love yous" rang out. She leaned into Henry unspeakably content. Her eyelids felt heavy and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open as led her upstairs and into their room. She sank onto the bed. "I can't believe we finally cut a deal. I can't believe I'm actually home."

"I can't believe that you are in bed before ten." Henry said setting his watch on the dresser. "Alison had the news on loop," He stepped into the closet still talking to her as he changed into his boxers and a t-shirt. "CNN is calling you the "Miracle Deal Maker" but don't let it go to your head, Babe. I think FOX is claiming you made a pact with the devil. Or maybe it was the other way around. I don't remember."

He stepped out of the closet to find her slumped over asleep in bed. She lay at an odd angle one shoe on and one on the floor. He paused, smiling as he studied her, wondering as he often did, how her beauty only seemed to increase over time. He slid her shoe off her foot and gently tried to reposition her, but her blue eyes fluttered open.

"Henry?"

"I certainly hope you aren't expecting someone else?" He said with a grin. "Come on, babe. Crawl under the covers."

"Still in my suit." She muttered rolling to her side of the bed.

"I got ya." He said as he slid her skirt off. He pulled the covers back. "Let me get your pjs." But she was curled asleep under the covers when he returned with her pajamas in his hand. He sat down on the bed beside her, running a gentle hand over her cheek. His eyes filled with sudden tears - the longest lasting effect of her horrible trip to Iran. He found himself overwhelmed with gratefulness again and again.

Not long after she'd come home from Iran, she had looked up from where she stood mucking out a stall at the horse farm covered with dirt and hay to find him watching her and silently sobbing.

"Henry!" She had said dropping the shovel in her hand. "What happened?"

"No." He choked out, embarrassed. He wiped his face. "I am so thankful and you just look so beautiful and I . . ."

She laughed out loud. "Yeah, I'm ready for the runway."

But he pulled her into his arms hugging her tightly. "You are beautiful." He said blinking away his remaining tears. "And I'm so grateful you are still here with me."

A look of pain and guilt darkened her features and she opened her mouth no doubt to apologize, as she so often did, but he hadn't given her a chance. He had kissed her until they were both dizzy, and he was just about to convince her to follow him up into the privacy of the hayloft, when Alison had arrived with her despised Blackberry in hand, reminding him again that she was not his alone.

Sighing, he crawled into bed beside her, wrapping his body around her. He brushed a kiss on her cheek before settling close to her.

He had always spent a good deal of his life in reflection, and Elizabeth's trip to Iran had pushed this habit into overdrive. He often found himself lost in thought, and later found himself pouring his heart out to both Father Bryan and Dr. Sherman.

After a lot of hard work during his sessions, he finally confessed to Dr. Sherman, that knowing what he knew now, he would've done everything in his power to prevent her from becoming Secretary of State - even if it shattered their relationship. He would rather be cut off from her for the rest of his life than watch her suffer so terribly. The price had been far too high. She was a strong woman but watching her beautiful face twist in pain as she recounted dark memories broke his heart and made him question some of his deepest beliefs. Although he was confident in her ability to overcome and endure, the memory of her so shattered and wounded haunted him. He could still hear the broken sound of her voice as she struggled to finally tell him everything - and even then she didn't really tell him everything. Her story was revealed slowly piece by piece and even now months later, she would whisper new secrets to him.

He knew down to his very core that they would recover; that she was already emerging from those dark days stronger than ever. Yet he also knew that all those broken places within him would never heal. How could he ever forget lifting her sobbing and shaking from the floor, as he desperately tried to comfort her; or the long hours spent waiting to hear if she were forever lost or the horrible anguish he felt as she finally unburdened herself telling him how she'd longed to get to Abdol; how she'd been helplessly pinned down by Fred's dead body.

He burrowed in tighter, closing his eyes and drinking in the familiar scent of her perfume. He knew from experience that in just a few hours she would stir restless, her brow furrowed in fear. She wouldn't fully waken and called out only occasionally but he'd trained himself to wake. He would whisper soft,comforting words until she settled back into peaceful sleep.

It was those small things that crushed him - her fearful dreams, the way the sound of breaking glass made her heart remember the terror of that day, the way she would flinch when he ran his fingers over the new scar on her back, or the way his heart would hammer in his chest if he got a call from her staff.

There were so many things he wished he could change; so many things he wished he could fix, but he was powerless, and so he relied on the small tools at his disposal - a warm embrace and a plate of warm food. But he knew full well that there were so many things that would never be cured by a simple dinner break.

 _***AUTHOR'S NOTE***_

 _Thanks for your patience but I was on vacation and far from my computer. I plan to update with the last few chapters fairly quickly. So appreciate all comments and reviews!_


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, it is nice to see the two of you together." Dr. Sherman said.

"Just trying to free up your time. You've been overwhelmed with McCords." Elizabeth said with a glance at Henry.

"It's been awhile since the three of us sat down together." Dr. Sherman said to them. "I know that the last time, Elizabeth and I talked she had some questions that I thought would be more beneficial if we explored them together."

"Questions?" Henry turned to his wife. "For me or about me?"

"Henry, it isn't like that." She explained.

"I think we should talk about your week first." His eyes held hers in a steady stare; a challenge. She looked away from him first, turning toward the doctor.

Elizabeth paled, exhaling slowly. "You know, maybe this isn't such a good idea. I had kind of a tough week and . . ."

"Why was this week difficult?" Dr. Sherman asked.

"She worked for five days straight." Henry explained. "That's tough on anyone."

"I had a flashback." Elizabeth sighed. "He's just trying to cover for me."

"I'm just pointing out that it was an understandable reaction, Elizabeth."

"This is the one place where we can tell the truth, Henry." She smiled at him and turned back to the doctor. "I had a pretty powerful flashback during a dinner meeting. It was really embarrassing. My staff had to cover for me and shut the whole thing down. It's been weeks since I had one and I thought that was all behind me."

"Were you able to identify the trigger?" Dr. Sherman asked.

"A server dropped a tray and some glasses broke. It startled me and then I was . . ." She stopped, pausing to draw in deep gulps of air. "Then it was like it was happening all over again."

Henry, who was sitting beside her on the couch, squeezed her shoulder, moving closer to her. "Take a second. It's okay." He rubbed gentle circles on her back, while she breathed slowly, calming her racing heart.

"I'm okay." She said at last.

"Henry's, right. It was a very normal reaction under the circumstances. Breaking glass is one of your strongest triggers. It must have been a particularly complicated situation since you were at work. How did it make you feel?" Dr. Sherman leaned forward.

"Frightened. Helpless. Frustrated." Elizabeth brushed at tears. "Everything I hate."

"But you didn't have a panic attack and you didn't hide it from me." Henry said gently. "You did a great job of managing it; of taking care of yourself."

"We're you there?" Dr. Sherman asked.

"No, but she called me, just like we'd agreed."

"And my staff handled it well." She said quietly. "I took a break, talked to Henry, breathed into a bag and listened to that stupid CD. Then, I got back to work."

"A good outcome, then." Dr. Sherman said.

"If you overlook ridiculous panic, embarrassing emotionalism and helplessness." Elizabeth said bitterly.

"Babe, no. Come on! Be fair to yourself." Henry said to her. He turned back to the doctor. "I think it's difficult for her to see because she's caught in the middle, but things are so much better now. She's doing so well."

"Really?" Elizabeth looked at him.

"Yeah, babe. You couldn't talk before. You wouldn't tell me anything."

"And what about you?" She turned toward him, her blue eyes suddenly piercingly bright.

"What about me?" He glanced nervously at Dr. Sherman. The room remained silent for a long minute until Dr. Sherman spoke.

"We've spent a great deal of our time talking about Elizabeth. And I agree with you. She's doing very well. The way she was able to manage such a difficult situation is proof of that. I know you have worked very hard to be supportive and to listen to her, but she is not the only one recovering from all of this."

"You have really, really helped me, Henry." Elizabeth say id.

"Well," He said feeling a rising anxiety. "I love you"

"Then all of this must be pretty difficult for you." The doctor said.

"No. She's the one who . . ."

"Stop doing that. Honey, every time we start to even talk about you - you deflect. You can talk to me."

"I'm fine." He said stiffly. "Honey, you don't need to worry about me."

"Henry!" Elizabeth's voice rose in frustration. "Why won't you talk to me?" She softened her tone. "You need to talk to me about it."

"I talk to you. We were just talking last night." He dodged, surprised to find how nervous he felt. "What is this anyway? An ambush?" He rose from the couch and stood, fighting an overwhelming urge to run.

"Henry," Elizabeth leaned forward on the couch. "It's not an ambush. I'm worried. I'm not allowed to be worried?"

"So, talk to _me_ about it! You don't need to recruit anyone else!"

"Babe, I've tried but you won't . . ." She glanced at Dr. Sherman, looking for help.

"Henry, you and I have talked about this. I recommended that you talk to Elizabeth more than once. And now that's she's asked you about it, you seem very agitated." Dr. Sherman said calmly.

"I'm sorry." He said drawing in a long slow breath, recognizing his behavior was irrational. He glanced at his wife who studied him with huge, sad eyes. "Babe, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so . . ."

"You've been so patient, Henry." She smiled sadly at him. "I must have screamed at you for a week straight, and I said horrible things to you. But you didn't say one mean thing back. I don't know how you could have been so patient!"

He struggled, tears pooling his dark eyes. "You were hurt and I . . ." He glanced at Dr. Sherman, clearing his throat. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It isn't?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

"No." He motioned toward Elizabeth. "She doesn't need the added pressure of guilt."

"Why should she feel guilty?" Dr. Sherman asked.

"She _shouldn't_ but she will." He turned to face her. "You will." He sighed sitting back down beside her. "Sweetheart, I know you want me to talk about . . ." He paused, struggling. "But I can't. I can't even go there. It's too . . ."

"So, it's a door closed between us, then?" Her voice was soft and her hand on his arm gentle.

"You've suffered enough." He leaned forward, his head in his hands. "Can you explain it to her?"

"Explain what?" Dr. Sherman asked calmly.

Henry glared at her in frustration. "Why are you making this _more_ difficult? You are supposed to help her!" He spoke sharply to Dr. Sherman. "You aren't much help right now!"

"Henry!" Elizabeth admonished.

"Who are you protecting?" Dr. Sherman asked him, ignoring his outburst completely. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes!" His response was immediate and firm.

"Because if you talked about _your_ pain, she would feel guilty? Because she can't determine for herself what she can and cannot handle? Because she's too weak?"

"No! No, that isn't what I said." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"She's telling you she wants you to talk to her, Henry. You aren't pushing her. She's asking."

He remained silent, his eyes studying the floor beneath his feet.

"Who are you protecting?" Dr. Sherman asked again, her voice gentle.

"Henry," Elizabeth moved closer to him, her hand on his arm. "It's okay. You can talk to me. I'm going to be alright."

"I can't." His voice was strangled by tears and anguish. "It's too . . ." He looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with pain. "It hurts too much."

She swallowed once and then twice, forcing herself to wait patiently. Every atom of her body wanted to embrace him and tell him that it was okay - that he didn't need to talk; that he didn't need to force himself to feel this pain. She glanced at Dr. Sherman who gave her a brief encouraging nod.

"Tell me, Henry." She ran a hand over his back and felt him shudder as she did.

"I couldn't sleep." His voice was so low that she had to lean in. "The bed seemed so empty and I could smell your perfume everywhere. I sat up all night thinking through your itinerary - imaging where you were. I just kept praying over and over and over." He glanced up. "And it was Alison's birthday and she was so. . ." He glanced at the doctor. "You would have to know, Ali. You'd love her - everyone does. She's so good natured. The sweetest girl - I mean she never once complained about Elizabeth being gone on her birthday. But to me, it felt like a gaping hole - a wound. And I kept thinking about the day she was born." He sniffed brushing tears out of his eyes. "God! She was easy from day one! Remember? So beautiful and sweet! And I kept thinking that you were going to die on her birthday, and how it would hurt her, and how you wouldn't be there when she turned seventeen."

"You didn't believe that Elizabeth would come home?" Dr. Sherman asked.

"No!" He gasped out, choking on a sob as he did. "No. I knew they would kill her. I knew it! I'm not stupid. And I know you knew it to - believed it."

"No," Elizabeth said drawing back from him. "No, I wasn't sure. I was afraid but not . . . I would never hurt you that way."

"You wouldn't. I know that, babe. But it was so complicated and you truly believe in this country and doing what's right. I get that. I know why you went; why you had to go. But don't tell me that a part of you wasn't pretty damn sure that that absolutely _was_ our last night together." He studied her and shook his head as tears filled her bright, blue eyes. He turned to Dr. Sherman. "This? This is what is supposed to make me feel better?"

"I never promised a specific outcome, Henry." She told him. "I only am telling you what you already know. You and Elizabeth don't live with secrets between you, do you?

"No," He said acquiescing. He sighed, continuing, "And then Jason saw it on his computer and said so matter-of-factly, 'There's a coup in Iran.'" He looked up at her. "And I kept thinking how he didn't even know that he was reading the story of how his mother died." He looked over at Elizabeth who was silently crying. He rose abruptly, turning toward Dr. Sherman. "See," He gestured toward his wife. "This isn't helping anyone! I told you that. I can't . . . I won't be someone else who hurts her! I won't be the cause of her pain! I _cannot_ talk about this."

"Elizabeth?" Dr. Sherman asked gently. "Are you alright? Is Henry right? Is this a bad idea?"

"When I . . ." She paused, trying to gain control of her voice. "When I told you everything - when I talked about Abdol, how did it make you feel?"

"Babe, no." He ducked his head, fighting actual sobs. "I was . . . I was wrecked. You were so . . ." A sob escaped then but he fought for control. "Every time I even think about it, I just want to do something - anything to prevent you hurting like that. And that's different, not telling me was hurting you. Keeping it a secret was killing you."

"I feel the same way, Henry. You are such a good man. You are so kind, but you are hurt and angry and pretending like you aren't doesn't change that." She reached out for his hand and pulled him back down on the couch beside her. "I know it wasn't really my fault, but I'm sorry just the same. I'm sorry things have been so hard. I'm sorry I was so distant and angry. I'm sorry I scared you so badly, and I'm sorry that it changed me. But if you never talk about it. It will always be between us, and you will alway be alone in it - like I was. I don't want that for you. Is that what you wanted for me?"

He didn't respond at all and the room remained silent for a long time. His head was down, and although she sat close to him, he did not reach out to her. It was a long time before he continued.

"I sat up with the girls all night. We watched the news and waited. They were so brave. They were so kind to each other and to me. And I kept thinking how like you they are - the way they protected Jason, and comforted each other. That is all you, babe. And it comforted me to see you in them, and hurt me at the same time. And I couldn't help thinking that was how it would be forever - them bringing me comfort and grief all at the same time." He paused, and then continued, "Russell is the one who finally called." He struggled, stifling a sob. "God, I cried like a baby! I must have scared the girls something terrible! I couldn't believe it! I couldn't believe you were alive! And later, when I talked to him again - when he gave me specifics and details I felt so much rage! The things you suffered, and I couldn't bare that you were hurt. I've never ever felt such anger, and then when you called from Germany, sobbing." He shook his head, sobbing silently for a few minutes before he continued, somewhat embarrassed. "I don't know." He told her with a shrug. "It sounds stupid when I say it now. I was worried and then I got a phone call."

"It was a lot more than that, Henry." She said softly, wrapping his arm in hers. She leaned up and kissed his cheek over and over, whispering soothing words.

"You mentioned, last time we met, that you think about it quite often." Dr. Sherman prodded gently.

"Every day." He confessed turning to look at Elizabeth. "Do you?"

Elizabeth nodded her head, biting at the corner of her lip. "I try not to, but it seems like it's just there below the surface. I mean I pass Fred's picture everyday, so I can't help but think of him."

"You could have that picture moved." Henry suggested.

"No. We talked about it, Henry. I can't deny what happened by hiding it. It won't change the fact that he died saving me. It makes me feel strong when I pass by it, and can keep going. It reminds me to be thankful."

"I'm grateful to him." Henry said wholeheartedly. He reached over holding onto her hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss it. "I'll be grateful for the rest of your life."

"I know I've said this before, but I think it is important for the two of you to remember. On the one hand, Elizabeth's trip ended positively; she achieved peace with Iran and came home safely, but on the other hand it had some really difficult outcomes; long-lasting outcomes. And although, she came back and you've been restored to one another, you have still suffered significant loss. I know I've told you both this separately and now I'm saying it to the two of you together. It's okay to grieve the loss - not just the loss of human lives, but the loss of what was before. It's difficult to accept but you do have a before and after, now. You _both_ do. And you need to work your way through it, together."

***MS***

Henry drained his glass, wishing it was something more powerful than iced tea. He looked across the table at his wife. The glow of candlelight only seemed to enhance her beauty. She was looking down, picking at what was left of the chicken on her plate. She met his eyes, and he smiled at her.

"What?" She asked, glancing around.

"Nothing." He shrugged.

"You are staring at me." She said self-consciously.

"Well, you are beautiful, babe. Should I look away?" He laughed.

"Yes!" She teased him. "Never look at me again!"

"No way! Not a chance of that happening." He reached across the table for her hand.

"This was a good idea." She said settling back in her chair.

"You have time for dessert, too?" He asked her.

"I probably shouldn't." She said. "I have the time, but not the calorie allowance."

"Please, babe, if you put on twenty pounds your doctor would throw a party!" He laughed.

She shook her head at him. "Do they have cheesecake?"

"If not, I'll make 'em run out and get you one." He glanced around trying to find their waiter. The restaurant was nearly empty - mostly due to the fact that it was only three o'clock in the afternoon. Henry was more determined than ever to push themselves to make room in their schedule for each other - no matter what. The result was dinner at 2:30 on a Wednesday.

"I'm not sure this is going to improve my productivity when I get back to the office." She said to him, squeezing his fingers. "I'm going to slide into a food coma right in the middle of my meeting."

"It would be embarrassing if I fell asleep during my own lecture." He agreed. "But I'm grateful for the break with you. I miss having lunch with you on campus."

"I miss a ton of things about UVA." She said with a sigh. "I miss sneaking in to watch you lecture - and discovering that your class was about 90% female."

"That's because women are so much more advanced than men. They have the capacity to see the value of religious studies." He grinned at her.

"Right." She said nodding her head. "And it had nothing to do with the fact that the class was taught by a stone fox, like yourself." She winked at him.

The waiter approached them. "Can we get you anything else today?"

"Well, my wife was hoping for cheesecake? Do you have any?" Henry asked.

"Yes, sir. I'll just check with the chef and make sure it is set. It might not be ready."

"If it is, bring two pieces and two coffees, please." Henry said as the waiter disappeared with a polite nod.

"You think he's going to mention that we are here early _every_ time he comes to the table." Elizabeth asked, taking a sip of water.

"We are so early, the old couples aren't even out yet." He laughed. "But thanks for coming out with me."

"It was a trial," She said winking at him. "But I did it for the sake of the kids. Speaking of which, have you notice that Stevie has been . . ."

"Uh uh." He cut her off. "We agreed. This is just for us. We can talk about Stevie's moods tonight." He winked at her. "What did Isabelle always used to tell you?"

"There's always tomorrow." She quoted. "This problem will still be here tomorrow."

"See!" He said with a grin. "Stevie will still be moping around tomorrow."

"That's true." She agreed.

The waiter came, setting coffee and dessert in front of them. "The chef would appreciate your feedback on the cheesecake, as you are the first ones to have any of it today."

"We will let you know." Henry said with a raised eyebrow. He glanced at his wife, who was covering a laugh with her hand. "Well," He told her. "I guess we know where NOT to go for an early dinner next time."

"I'll put a scathing review on Twitter and then they'll start delivering food to our front door to make up for it."

"Taste the cheesecake first, and see if it's worth it."

***MS***

They stood outside the Metro station hand in hand, unwilling to part. She sighed, and leaned into him a little, looking out past his shoulder.

"There a row of paparazzi back there." She said to him.

"Well, babe, if you are going to walk around showing off those legs . . ." He indicated her skirt.

"Yes, the world is hungry to see pictures of a forty-six year old woman's legs."

"Not just any forty-six year old. You, babe. You know your legs are ridiculous."

"Oh, I don't want to go back to the office, now." She said, and he pulled her into a hug.

"I don't want you to go either." He told her. "Your last meeting is at 7:00?"

"7:30." She told him. "I better go." She glanced around. "I don't want to be late for our exciting budget meeting."

"The world of politics and intrigue." He said to her. "Life with you is so exciting."

"We could use less excitement these days."

"True that." He leaned down, kissing her. "Thanks for meeting me for Linner or Dunch."

"I'll meet you anytime anywhere . . ."

"Oh, that's sweet." He said.

"For cheesecake." She winked at him.

"Crushed it again, Mrs. McCord." He shook his head at her. "Call me later?"

"Yeah." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "I'll see you tonight."

"I'll be the one asleep in your bed surrounded by ungraded essays." He winked at her.

She paused looking up into his face, her hands on his forearms, before kissing him one more time. "I love you." She said, and then releasing him, turned and walked away. He watched her go, her agents surrounding her, and causing people to turn and try to see who was walking toward the State Department building. He watched her until she disappeared into the building, and then turned and went down into the Metro station.

Sitting on the train, he tried to focus on his upcoming 4:00 lecture, but he kept thinking of her. Despite the fact that he had just said goodbye to her minutes ago, he pulled out his phone to text her, longing for the sweet sound of her voice.

-Thanks again for the Dunch break.-

He knew she had a meeting, so he had no expectation for a response, but was surprised to see an immediate answer.

-You already said that, silly-

-I know- He typed back. -It just makes me so much happier when I actually get to see you.-

-Are you okay?-

-I'm fine. I know I was a wreck the other day. But, and you better promise to delete this as soon as we are done, you were right. You were right about me needing to talk about it.-

-I'm NEVER deleting this thread. I'm getting it stitched on a pillow.-

-I'm trying to be serious.-

-I know, but babe we've been up to our eyeballs in serious.- She typed to him, and he could picture a sly, mischievous smile on her face.

-Well, thanks, all the same. You better get to work. I love you, babe - more than anything.- He slid his phone back into his pocket. He felt it vibrate just as the train came to a stop. He moved through crowds and emerged into the light of the late afternoon. He waited until he was back in his office before fishing out his phone and reading the message.

-Hey, I was only teasing. I'm glad you feel better. I do, too. I would never have survived any of this without you. You know that. And I know things have really sucked lately. And even though it isn't my fault, I am sorry about that. Whatever pain I've brought you, I'm sorry for that, and I swear I'm listening when you talk, Henry. I really am. I love you, and I'll meet you for brunch, linner, dunch or in the middle of the night!-

He sat back in his chair, overwhelmed. He glanced at the clock recognizing that he'd better get over to the lecture hall soon. But, even as he turned to grab his bag, he dialed her number.

"Hello?" Her voice was light and sweet, like music.

"What happened to there being enough seriousness?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd call. Don't you have a lecture?"

"Don't you have a budget meeting?" He countered.

"It got pushed back twenty minutes. Why did you call?"

"Because I love the sound of your voice." He told her with a grin.

"You better stop flirting." She told him. "I know by the time I finally get home you'll be passed out asleep. You're just a tease."

"It's always sex with you." He told her. "Whatever happened to the sweet loving embrace of friendship?"

"Oh, please! Stop quoting monks!" She laughed. "But you better go, Henry. You'll be late."

"I don't care. I had to hear your voice again." He told her.

"Henry," She admonished. "What's got into you?"

"I don't know. I'm just so grateful," He was embarrassed to find himself fighting tears again. "And," He said clearly his throat. "I'm happy. It feels good to feel happy, doesn't it?"

"It does." She agreed. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah, babe. Thanks for everything. Maybe we can have a dinner break again tomorrow?"

"If I don't make it home, we will figure something out, alright?"

"We always do." He told her. "Alright, stop stalking me, okay. Go crunch some numbers."

"As if!" She laughed. "Go shape the leaders of tomorrow."

"I love you, Elizabeth."

"Wait, who is this?" She teased him.

"It's a good thing, I like you."

"It's _everything_." She responded immediately. "Go on. You are going to be late, Professor."

"Okay, see you later, babe."

"Bye."

He grabbed his bag, and rushed out the door. She was right. He was already late, still it didn't seem to matter one bit. He rushed across the school grounds, remembering the rich warm sound of her voice and holding onto the feeling of joy that flooded his heart every single time he heard her laugh.

Whatever came their way in the future, he determined that he would make sure that she laughed as often as possible, and that he would move earth and heaven to make sure that she had at least a dinner break every now and then. He would tell himself it was for her; to keep her strong to face the endless obstacles that came her way, but he knew the deeper truth - that she was the only thing that had the power to strengthen his own heart.

 _***AUTHOR'S NOTE***_

 _So, I intend this to be a light-hearted story, but then Henry started talking. I guess he had some pretty serious things to say, and he is so good looking - who am I to argue? Thanks for all the reviews._


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